


the devil takes care of his own

by sidnihoudini



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fleeting moment of weightlessness in Dean’s stomach turns heavy, finally infinite.  Spoilers for 8x23.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the devil takes care of his own

**Author's Note:**

> I'll most likely write more, but I at least needed to say this.

_oh where do we begin?  
the rubble  
or our sins_

~

The night Heaven falls, Dean can’t help but wonder if maybe his mom is still up there, somewhere.

His heart feels free, suddenly, soaring out of his chest like bodies falling from the sky as he watches the chaos spin around him, the cool of the car door pressed against his back, and Sam still leaning up against his side.

“The angels, they’re falling,” He whispers, glancing up at the dark sky, and then sideways at Sam. “Sam, do you remember what mom used to say?”

Sam’s mouth drops open as he takes a big gulp of air, eyes rolling up towards the skies. One of his hands is twisted into the loose fabric of his own jacket, the other with his fingers dug into the damp earth between them.

“Angels are watching over you,” He answers, his voice rough but clear, as he tilts his head back against the car door behind them. Dean’s face breaks into a grin, and it’s not happy, it’s only wide with relief, his eyes crystal clear. “And I’ll love you until Heaven falls from the sky.”

Wiping his face off with the sleeve of his jacket, Dean’s can’t help but look up at the sky again. Not twenty yards from where they sit, crumpled together at the knees, another body crashes and burns on the ground.

“You think she held on, Sammy?” He asks, tipping his head back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Sam gasps, reaching for his own chest suddenly, his lungs working, heart pumping. He breathes, “I hope so.”

“If she can do it,” He whispers, voice wavering as he begins to push himself up. “Then we can, too. Come on, Sammy, we gotta move.”

Before Sam is even cognoscente of what Dean is really saying, he begins nodding his head yes, eyes rolling, the weariness in his bones really settling in - the weight of what they’ve done rolling him over, and crushing him underneath its weight.

Dean sees all of this in his face, in a split second as he pulls Sam’s arm up to wrap around his own shoulders, one of his hands steadying Sam at the hip, the other wrapping around where Sam’s wrist sits, loose and dangling against the rough material of Dean’s jacket.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam whispers, as Dean jostles them both to their feet, the two of them standing beside the Impala, each hunched over with the weight of one another. He glances sideways at Dean, his eyebrows jerking up in one quick beat as he explains, “How bright the angels are against the sky.”

There’s a weightless moment that passes between them, the feeling a high school student must have on the day of their graduation, or the heavy emptiness that lifts from a woman's shoulders just before the divorce - Dean feels it all whip throughout his body, resonating where his skin is the most tanned - the curves of his wrists, the thin skin across the bridge of his nose.

“You’re right, Sammy, it is beautiful,” He whispers, his voice rough, raspy. He looks at Sam’s face, the expression broken across his forehead, his dreary frown and the swell of stress underneath his eyes. The fleeting moment of weightlessness in Dean’s stomach turns heavy, finally infinite, and drops heat right down into his toes. He falters, for a moment, before he says, “But I’m not looking at the sky.”


End file.
